


Now or Never

by lezombiewife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Curtain Fic, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mopey boys, Romance, chick flick moments, sometimes I write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-12 19:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21481309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lezombiewife/pseuds/lezombiewife
Summary: The End is here and the Winchesters have beat God. What's next should be simple except Sam is being a little bitch and nothing will ever be simple again.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

It’s weird when it all comes to an end. Dean isn’t entirely sure what he had been envisioning but it hadn’t been this.

Chuck and Amara had fused along with the Empty to form God. The Holy Trinity. The entity or swirly being or whatever the fuck you wanted to call it, had thanked the Winchesters for making him/her/it whole again. 

“I’m everything, and I’m nothing,” the entity claimed and Dean snorted. Like they hadn’t heard that one before. Why every villain, be it Lucifer or Michael or God or some skank ass ghoul had to go on a monologue, he would never understand. 

Dean zoned out, his eyes getting lost in the iris like bubble that floated above them. Rays of light shone from a single dark spot much like a pupil. Clouds of purple, fuscia, blue and baby pinks swirled around a tiny black center. Everything and nothing. A state of eternal being, ripped apart by Chaos...blah blah wish you must share...

“Whatdju say again?” Dean stuck his chin out. His hearing wasn’t like before- part due to age, and part due to all the firepower they had been handling all their lives.

“Like I said, “ God intoned, “your heart’s desire. I can grant you and your brother one wish. But it will only have to be one. So think wisely.”

Ok that was easy. Maybe in the past he might have wished for his parents to be back or for them to go back in time or one of his favorites - a happy family in the suburbs but that’s not them anymore. He likes what they do- saving people, hunting things; but all the crazy messed up side of the Angels and Demons? He could definitely do without that. He briefly even toys with the idea of him and Sam growing old and scraggly together. Dean can barely finish his thoughts, let alone voice them when Sam cuts right in.

“I don’t want to be brothers anymore.” The sentence is final and it feels like a hot knife slicing into Dean’s insides.

It has barely been 30 minutes later and they’re back at Motel 69. They had gotten here in record time and in complete silence; Dean’s foot a lead weight on the gas pedal. In the end they hadn’t made their “wish”. Dean can’t fucking believe it. “God” or whomever the fuck that was, flumoxxed by Sam’s words had given them three months to think it through. They could pray any time and he would be right there but that final wish needed to be within three months. Like three months could undo the betrayal that burned his soul. Dean stomps through the tiny room, back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists, like that would somehow make this all go away. They’re supposed to be celebrating, goddammit.

Sam, is sitting right at the end of the bed, resting bitch face intact; like it was Dean who was somehow in the wrong. Dean can’t bear to look at his brother and instead runs over the last six months in his head. 

Nothing really stands out to him- it’s pretty run of the mill. They said some messed up shit to each other. And yup, they had to kill Cas to finish the final part of the spell, and yes they had to give up the bunker for life on the road again. But to not want to be brothers? He stewed, rage gripping him anew once more. Apparently he was good enough to be by Sam’s side when the world was shit, but turn that all into rainbows and puppies- and suddenly Sam didn’t want to be brothers anymore. The day he had been dreading all along was right here in front of him. The day Sam didn’t want him anymore. The day very much like decades ago when his brother had picked Stanford over him and dad. 

He’s going to be sick.

Sam’s known that he’s fucked up for a long time now. Dean may be blind when it comes to his little brother but Sam just knows. It’s just something in him. The same something that attracted Azazel and Lucifer. The same something that all the sons of bitches that they’ve put away hone into like a beacon.

He’s had a long time to get used to it. You could even say he’s accepted it.

Now, not everyone can say that they’ve seen God. Forget about being able to save God. But he and Dean have gone and done it. Just like it was another ordinary day. Sure, they’ve lost people along the way but the brothers are together. Alive, in one piece and with their souls intact - there isn’t much more the Winchesters can ask for. This particular victory is supposedly something special. Something even awesome, if you wanted to use Dean’s words. And yet Sam feels pretty much like he does after every hunt. Tired. Hungry. Relieved that his brother is not dead or worse. 

This attachment that he feels to his brother. It’s undefinable, indescribable. At best, he could describe it as Dean being his arm, no scratch that, his heart. Sure, they can be in each other’s faces and spaces. Say things that other people might kill you for. Fight like the catty ladies of real housewives but they’re SamandDean. Just SamandDean. One word.

They’re soulmates.

And it should be so fucking simple. Except it’s not.

When Sam was younger, he had God on a pedestal, much like he did Dean. His faith in Dean never wavered, but he can’t really say the same for God. So in some little corner of his heart, Sam knows he’s more in awe of his big brother than he ever will be of God. Or whatever the fuck the swirly eye thing wanted to call itself.

When God had gone off on his monologue all Sam could think was how little he cared about the why. Their lives had been messed up beyond belief. Lucifer. Michael. The Mark of Cain. Lilith. Whatever the fuck else Chuck could conjure up.

And when he heard, “in return I want to give you boys one wish. Just one, you’ll have to share,” Sam could only think of one thing. Implicitly he knows he should be asking for the cookie cutter/apple pie life. His parents back. His time back. But all that comes out of his mouth is, “I don’t want to be brothers anymore.”

Yup, that goes real well with Dean. So here they are, at yet another motel, his brother bug eyed, pale faced and generally looking like there’s a toad stuck in his throat. Sam snaps out from his thoughts and levels with Dean. “I meant it.”

Sam braces himself for the full force of Dean’s rage except all that croaks out of his brother is a small snivelly, “why?”

“It would have been different if he had asked us three hours ago,” Sam offers. When Dean offers no real answers but a stare of incredulity, Sam explains further. “The flashblack or the highlight reel,” he says waving his arms. “ The best brother moments. The one Chuck played to us right before wanting to snap our very existence away?”

“Yeah?” Dean isn’t sure where this is going. Chuck had offered them a view of their past, but it was nothing they hadn’t lived through before. Nothing shocking. Nothing to warrant not wanting to be brothers.

Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “don’t you see?”

“No,” Dean is shouting now. “I don’t see, Sam!”

“Lisa. Amelia. Benny. Cassie. Cas. Jack,” Sam tries again, this time his tone more patient. “We’re never going to have meaningful relationships with other people as long as we’re together.” 

Dean nods because it’s true. They always choose each other, come hell or highwater. “But things were different. It was the end of the world. Of course, it’s my job to keep you safe. What did you think was going to happen? That I would say no? Walk away from this; from you?”

“But that’s exactly what it is..”

“What?” Dean’s just about to lose his cool and Sam can tell his brother is about ten seconds away from using his fists.

“We’ve got to be further apart if we ever want to have a normal life! And as brothers Dean, we just can’t do it!” Sam is shouting now. Like that somehow helps make his point.

“So we’ll be in like a commune or whatever the fuck that is!” Dean thundered. “Our wives and kids will be best friends. Why can’t we all just live happily the fuck after?”

“Because, Dean…” Sam rubs at his temples. He can’t really put into words what he’s feeling but he has to try. “Because, they’re going to resent me. Resent you. Resent us. If we weren’t brothers, we wouldn’t feel this,” Sam gestures between them, “whatever this is. This bond or whatever. And who knows- maybe we’ll resent each other.”

“You mean you’ll resent me!” Dean is nothing but stubborn. He’s ready to argue further but Sam’s got this look like he’s about to cry and that takes the fight out of him. “Fine,” Dean says in a monotone, “let’s call God.”

Apparently they didn’t even need a prayer because “God” had been lingering around waiting for one of the Winchesters to suggest calling him. The iridescent bubble is floating in their motel room. “You’ve made a decision?”

“Whatever Sammy wants.”

God, however, isn’t as gracious as Dean. He/she/it is also not quite the impartial being that they want him to be. “Before that, I want to show you something.”

Suddenly, Sam knows where this is going. Maybe “God” has forgotten but he’s seen every iteration of themselves through Chuck. Every. Single. One. And he just knows what “God” wants to show - maybe because he’s just another douchebag or maybe because God has more of Chuck in him than he does of either Amara or the Empty. Sam leaps up in an attempt to stop whatever is about to happen but the bubble merely keeps shifting just out of reach, taunting him. Resigned, Sam tries to leave except his feet seem nailed to the floor. “Stop,” he tries one last time but nothing comes out. His lips are sealed by some unforeseen force. God huffs and continues, “patience, Sammy. As you know Chuck created several worlds. Some, where you were brothers, others where you were sisters, some you were raised apart, and some…” God pauses dramatically for added effect “where you were unrelated.”

When the next scene in the bubble clears up, Sam thinks he might just die right then and there. He can feel his heart pounding his ears and he braces himself for the inevitable fall out with Dean. Forget him not wanting to be brothers. Dean is going to wish that his brother never came into existence.

It’s a fairly domestic scene and it takes Dean more than a couple seconds to really get “it.” The Winchesters are cleaning up the kitchen, Sam washes, Dean dries, matching sappy looks painted across their faces. You can’t really hear the voices but if you had to guess, it would probably be some friendly ribbing. Dean snaps a towel at his brother’s ass and Sam tackles him back in return. They’re wrestling, generally being punks when all of a sudden Dean has Sam’s hips pinned against his, his lips sucking a path down the younger man’s neck.

Sam thinks he’s going to black out when Dean yells, “you sonovabitch.” Dean’s ready to tackle the bubble but the swirling cloud laughs mockingly before dissipating into thin air. It leaves behind one message that practically screams in their heads, “you guys need to talk.”

In true Dean fashion, he walks out. He’s down the street at a less than desirable joint throwing back whiskey like it’s water. He barely gets drunk anymore and Dean Winchester is going to need a shit load of alcohol to wash out his recent memories.

They saved the world from Chuck and restored God to its true form, and what did they get in return? More of the same shit. It’s like they’re just not allowed to catch a break.

When the bubble disappeared, he didn’t need to look at Sam’s face to know his true feelings. Guilt emanated from Sam’s pores like sweat, and Dean could smell it in the air. At least some things were still the same even if he no longer knew who his little brother was anymore. If Sam was fucked up, then Dean had a big part to play in it. The thought made him queasy. Sam, who was all the good in the world, the rational one, the one that even Chuck couldn’t beat had somehow been marred by Dean.

Dean’s thoughts are briefly interrupted by a gaggle of girls who are at the bar for a bachelorette. Normally, he’d swagger up and test his luck with the bridal party but today all he can think of is the time when was 18 and had thrown a pair of panties at his brother’s face. “It’s always the brides to be, Sammy,” he had said, “looking for their one last night of freedom.”

Had he somehow inadvertently fucked up Sam? They’ve always been tangled in each others lives from the time toddler Dean crawled into baby Sam’s crib to keep him safe to when Dean showed Sam how real men jerked off. Are you sure you’re doing it right, Sammy? Maybe swipe your fingers over the head while you’re at it. Attaboy, baby!  
The way they had grown up- geez, the endless road and the motels - they didn’t exactly have the luxury of privacy. Dean cringes at the memory and swings back yet another gulp of whiskey. It tasted like gasoline. 

And shit, it didn’t even end there. All of the times that they’ve lost each other or thought they’ve lost each other - they had reunited fiercely. Hell, they had shared the same bed for months on end when Sam first came back from the dead and Dean had pledged his soul. Nevermind all those times when he’s openly admired Sam’s abs and/or his ass and thinking, well who wouldn’t want to tap that. Not that it's a surprise, but he doesn’t entirely find Sam repugnant. He really should but his brother is a total babe and Dean, well he’s Dean. Great, so he’s equally as fucked as Sam. 

“No wonder he doesn’t want to be brothers,” a voice niggled at Dean’s head but he pushes it away. No, “God’s” memory or vision or whatever had been pretty clear. They were not brothers and hence were involved. Sexually. Intimately.

Dean lets his head fall against the counter. 

“You okay there, handsome?” a voice asks. It’s a girl from the bridal party and she’s dressed in this itty bitty skirt that would probably reveal more than anyone wanted if she so much as uncrossed her legs. The girl is perched on the bar stool and Dean just stares. He’s normally so suave, so self assured that the dichotomy is jarring even to him. “Yeah, yeah, listen….” he just needs another person to talk to and a virtual stranger sounds perfect at the current moment.

“Yeah?” Itty bitty skirt is batting her eyelashes, the invitation amply clear.

“Say you have a br….friend. Your best friend, right. You can’t ever say no to her..or him.”

Itty bitty skirt looks like she’s about to blow a gasket but Dean turns those big green eyes at her and she perches back on the bar stool. This wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time but the guy was just so damn pretty. 

“Your friend,” Dean continues. “Wants to be more than friends.”

“Like lovers?”

“Exactly. Like lovers. But you don’t...I mean you’ve grown up with this person and you just don’t see them that way. Well, you’ve never really tried. And he has never really asked. And now,” his voice breaks, “now he doesn’t even want to be friends anymore.”

The girl looks at him almost pitying, “I mean that’s expected isn’t it?”

Was it? Dean’s frustrated because friend and brother don’t really hold the same weight. “But he never asked!”

“Maybe he’s afraid you’d say no?” itty bitty skirt offers.

And just like that, it's like a light bulb went off in his head. Dean runs all the way to the motel, hoping against hope that Sam is still there. He bursts through the door and there is his brother. Looking mopey and despondent but definitely exactly where Dean had left him.

“You!” Dean pants. He’s tired, quite possibly drunk and completely out of breath. The events of the evening haven’t exactly been conducive to critical thought either. 

Sam just shakes and all of a sudden, Dean just knows he’s right - call it one of the perks of being codependent. He kneels down next to his brother, and rubs soothingly on his knee. “Shh, it’s okay, I know. It’s okay.”

“What’s ok, Dean?” Sam sounds wrecked and Dean feels his heart sink. He’s not really sure how and where to start. How do you tell your brother that you’re OK with this? That you don’t think he’s a freak. Might even potentially return…

Sam interrupts his thoughts, “I gotta go. I think we need to tell God or Chuck or whatever that we’re done. Guess no point in using my wish anymore. I didn’t...I didn’t want you to know.”

Dean looks up sympathetically. “God is just another douche bag. Hey, look at me, OK? It’s OK. I don’t care.” He goes for some inopportune humor, “so you want to be my big gay lover. Big deal.”

That earns him the dirtiest of looks from Sam, “is that what you think?”

Dean sobers up almost instantly. He winces as he rises because his knees aren’t in their twenties or even their thirties anymore. “Move over,” he whispers and he’s smushed against Sam. His hand draws invisible patterns up and down his brother’s arm and he focuses on a suspicious spot on the wall. Anything to avoid looking into Sam’s eyes. 

“Dean..” Sam starts warningly, but Dean just shushes him. “Listen. So I was at the bar and..”

“I can tell. You smell…”

“Shuddup,” Dean answers lightly. “And this girl walks up to me in this little skirt. Sammy, I kid you not..”

“Dean…”

“Yeah, sorry should’ve been clearer.” Dean rubs the back of his neck and his scruff. “I know why you don’t want to be brothers. And that’s OK. I don’t feel...no scratch that. I haven’t thought of you that way but now that God has shown us….” he trails off.

“But that’s just it,” Sam gets up suddenly, his voice raising several pitches. “I don’t want..”

“Shh, just listen OK?” Dean continues. “I was talking to this chick and she said you’re afraid I’d say no. But you know what I think? I think you’re afraid that I won’t say no.”

Sam’s eyes are shining bright and his face is a dead giveaway. “Yeah,” he puffs, the fight going out of him. “Yeah, if I wanted something, would you say no to me?”

Dean’s answer is simple and intuitive, “no.”

Point made.


	2. Chapter 2

“Bacon cheeseburger and beer! Food of champions,” Dean declares as he makes space on the little table. It’s been over a week since “the day,” and contrary to Dean’s expectations nothing has changed. In fact Sam’s overt politeness is almost maddening. He’s about a hair width away from shaking his brother but he doesn’t want to seem too… what was the word? Eager? Forward? It’s not like he’s pining for Sam or anything. He just wants Sam to believe that he’s perfectly capable of making his own decisions. Sure, he puts his brother above everything else but wasn’t that what being siblings was all about?

But here’s the thing with Sam. In his own stubborn, bull headed, stupid Sam way he needed to see things for himself. Which meant that up until that moment that Sam felt wholly and completely convinced that Dean wasn’t offering himself up in some messed up put-your-brother-first way nothing would change.

Whatever Dean said typically had no effect. 

Dean shakes himself out of it. Today’s hunt had been a doozy. It was supposed to be a simple salt and burn but the bitch who bit the bullet had been some sort of psychic. Unfortunately for her and luckily for him, Sam was a much better (and hotter) psychic. Salting and burning her bones while chanting some enochian spell seemed to do the trick. Dean feels a familiar surge of pride and ruffles Sam’s hair as he recalled the night’s details. By the time they had finally gotten back to the motel, and showered- they were freakin’ exhausted. Dean had used one of those online ordering apps and voila! Dinner was served.

“Beer?” Dean nudges Sam who looks like he’s about to fall asleep at the table. The bright fluorescent light brings attention to the gray hair teasing at his brother’s temples. “Eat up, and go to sleep,” he orders curtly. Sam yawns and nods. It’s been a long fucking day and he doesn’t mind calling it a night.

The next thing Sam remembers, they’re sprawled across his bed, Dean’s breath a hot puff in his ear. Somewhere between the cheeseburgers, the beer and somewhat normal conversation, they had ended up on Sam’s bed- quite possibly starting with Dean innocently helping his younger brother get to bed. The leftover adrenaline from the hunt and warmth of the warm body next to him doesn’t help matters and Sam pushes back against the solid heat that is Dean. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean tries to extricate himself and Sam straight up panics. He doesn’t want to lose his brother or the warmth. Unthinking, he pulls Dean right back next to him where he belongs. He’s whining- he can hear himself. “Ok,” Dean murmurs softly, “I’ll stay.” Perhaps it was Dean’s soft tone or perhaps it was all the heat radiating from him, but Sam relaxes his hold on Dean’s collar and wiggles in closer. He then brings Dean’s arm up and around, looping it around his waist. Satisfied, his lips curve into a smile and his brain chases that sweet oblivion once more. He’s exhausted but he’s safe. He’s home.

Dean Winchester has a colorful vocabulary, if you will. Here he is nearly 40 years old and he’s acting like some love sick tween. Sam’s always been one flexible motherfucker and it figures that he would wiggle his ass just so that it’s right up in his crotch. Dean prays because no goddammit, he’s not making the first move. Sam said it first. He’s the one who’s been having all these incestual fantasies. He’s the one who didn’t want to be brothers, wanted to be more and yet here was Dean seriously considering all sorts of things that you really shouldn’t consider. Nope, he isn’t going to. Not even if Sam’s hair smelled like lavender (no he’s not actively smelling Sam’s hair, it’s just settled right under his nose), and definitely not even when Sam melts into his arms. So it had been way too long since he last got laid or even jerked off. It was probably all that pent up frustration that was rearing its ugly head. He can totally imagine moving his hips just a bit, maybe even test the waters. He could move that long hair away from Sammy’s nape and just...Dean winces. He’s definitely NOT making any moves. Patience was a virtue, particularly when it came to Sam. Dean could have probably argued with himself for hours, but soon, the exhaustion from the hunt gets to be too much and before he realizes it, he’s passed out as well, arms firmly wrapped around Sam. His last thought is that there is no way he’s going to survive this.

Sometimes, Dean surprises himself. It’s been three weeks now since, “the day,” and the brothers are caught in the strangest of dances. If the Winchester family had a motto it would probably center heavily around denial. Even Dean had to accept- they were good at ignoring things, set them to the back burner until they caught on fire. People thought women were hard to understand but clearly these people had yet to meet Sam. If Dean had thought his acknowledging their “relationship,” and his very decided, very firm, “yes” would somehow change things between them, he couldn’t have been more wrong. And if Dean had thought sharing the bed that one time, cuddling and sleeping in would change things, well, let’s just say this is brand new territory for him. A territory where he has no fucking clue what Sam is thinking.

It’s making him antsy and more than a little horny. You could say Dean’s dick is a little raw from all that jerking off. It all comes to head in a few hours when Sam is researching their newest case.

“So get this,” Sam starts. His hair is wet and hanging long. Dean briefly wonders what the damp strands would feel like between his fingers. “Dean?” Sam raises an eyebrow and Dean tries to shake himself out of it.

It’s a little unfair how unaffected Sam is when all Dean can think about is his brother. Yeah, in that way. 

Dean clears his throat and gestures for Sam to continue. “It’s like nothing has changed. Here, see another dude has gone and gotten his throat slit.”

I don’t care, Dean wants to scream but nods patiently. Nothing has changed between them either. And maybe Sam’s had a helluva longer time getting used to them being more than brothers, but he’s had three weeks. And really his fantasies are getting out of hand. Dean wishes he had a friend to confide in but quickly squashes that thought. Perhaps he could write to an advice column, “Dear Abby, I’m in love…”

Well that escalated quickly. Not that it is any surprise but c’mon! Dean stands abruptly and Sam looks at him questioningly.

“Dean! You okay, there?” Sam’s eyes are wide and he looks worried. Dean’s first instinct is to soothe Sammy. He wants to say something to the effect of everything is fine and let’s go get this motherfucker but all he says is, “do you regret it?”

Sam’s now confused. “Regret what?”

“This,” Dean gestures between them and Sam continues to look confused. Frustrated, Dean cards a hand through his hair, “do you regret umm telling me about the...being more than brothers thing.” He hates this. He hates talking about his feelings and he definitely hates being the one who has to bring it up. Like he’s some chick with all these feelings. So much for not wanting to make any moves and waiting for Sam to come to him.

Sam’s face clears and he’s quick to console Dean. “No, I was…”

Yup. Have no excuses there, do you little brother? The voice in Dean’s head is loud and mean. 

“I was,” Sam clears his throat.

“I see,” Dean answers glumly. Of course Sam could have anyone he wanted. And Sam didn’t know what he wanted. Sweet, sexy, selfless Sammy- why the fuck would he want a loser like Dean? Hell, if Dean were to think objectively Sam didn’t even like guys. Dean didn’t like guys. What the fuck were they doing. Dean wants to rip God apart, bubble by bubble when Sam cradles his face between those big hands and turns those puppy eyes at him. 

“I was trying to give you space.” Sam whispers.

Yup, they’re idiots.

They’re not really sure how they got here, and it really doesn’t matter but out of nowhere they’re both in boxers. Sam’s back is flush against the wall and Dean finally has his hands in Sam’s hair. Sam kisses like he does everything else. Totally. Completely and 100% with all intent. Dean laughs shakily because he doesn’t know what he was afraid of. Perhaps he should have made the first move weeks ago, or hell maybe even years ago. He can’t lie - he’s had a good many fantasies of threesomes with his brother. Call it collateral or whatever of their relationship but this feels...

This feels complete.

Dean tugs on Sam’s hair and the latter can do nothing but moan. They’ve both pulled off their shirts at this point- they can’t really keep track of much other than to know that they really to feel skin against skin. The fabric between them is thin and Dean can feel exactly how interested his brother is in the current proceedings. Dean wants everything at once. He tells Sam so. Explicitly. And he thinks he’s just a little bit addicted to how Sam blushes. 

“Dean,” Sam manages between breaths. “Dean!”

“What?”

It’s difficult to think with Dean being like this. Warm. Turned on. Around him, over him. He wants to say so much. He wants to get to a real bed and he wants to get fucked.

“Oh?” Dean’s eyes twinkle and Sam belatedly realizes that the last part was said out loud. He’s not much in control of his body, let alone his thoughts. “Later, ok?” Dean promises between nips and kisses. “Later but now..”

“No, listen!” Sam tries again and really the last thing Dean wants to do right now is to talk. “Are you sure?”

Dean stills. “What?”

“Are you sure you want this?”

Dean can’t help but laugh, “I’m gonna whoop your ass. Yes, I’m sure. Okay? Like I’m going to hell for you sure.”

Happiness washes over him and Sam can’t help but grin sappily. He doesn’t need to say the words because they’re understood. Sex was the last piece of the puzzle and with it- they’re complete. Their laughs turn to moans once more as grind into each other, desperately, like they can’t believe they’ve wasted all this time in the world. 

Sam leads them both to bed. And Dean follows blindly, his boxers making it to the floor along the way. Dean’s unabashed; he knows he looks good. He’s seen the look Sam’s wearing on a good many chicks. “Like what you see?” Dean tries to go for sexy but his voice comes out all wrong.

“Sam?” Dean tries again but his brother merely pulls him down for a kiss. It’s all tongue and wicked intent. “Jesus,” Dean’s eyes close, and his hands are clutching at Sam’s hips, pulling him in; all rational thought long lost. They’re rubbing, gliding and pushing against each other, all the while Dean is dragging his lips against every surface of Sam that he can reach. He tries to get another kiss in but Sam easily avoids Dean’s advances choosing instead to get friction against his cock. They both haven’t had much action in so long that it’s all over much too soon and much too fast. 

“Let’s do that again,” Dean says, out of breath. “The right way this time.”

The three months are up and God is feeling puckish. He hasn’t heard from the Winchesters, not since the day they had the blow up and he briefly wonders if a permanent wedge had been driven between the two. The bubble cackles gleefully. That. would. Be. Awesome.

Chuck and the angels have spent so much goddamn time trying to keep the brothers apart and really all one had to do was reveal their incestuous intentions? Well the time to make a decision was up and if the Winchesters wouldn’t go to the mountain, then the mountain would… well you get the point. 

God decides to make his entrance in a shit motel in a podunk town in Nebraska. “The time is up, Winchesters,” the voice booms. The bubble barely has a chance to make it’s grand entrance because really this was bad timing. It was treated to a view of naked Sam riding Dean’s cock like his life depended on it.

God in Chuck’s form waits patiently outside the motel and brothers hurry out haphazardly dressed. Sam has that worried, almost sheepish look while Dean just looks plain pissed. “The fuck do you want?” Dean questions.

“You guys?” God starts and Sam has the decency to blush. Dean waggles his eyebrows, “got an eyeful didncha...what are you here for?”

God clears his throat, “the wish? It’s been three months and …”

“Yeah, don’t care buddy and don’t need it,” Dean interjects. “Got everything I want right here.” It wasn’t really ever about the monsters and all those things that went bump in the dark. At the end of the day it was all about them. He doesn’t need to look at Sam to know that his feelings mirrored right back. 

God - 0  
Winchesters - 2

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this sort of wrote itself. It's my first time writing slash let alone Supernatural. Hope I didn't miss the mark completely.


End file.
